


Only Skin Deep

by aishahiwatari



Series: McKirk shorts [5]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Bonus Bones in a Skirt, Canon Divergence, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-20 23:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18133871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/pseuds/aishahiwatari
Summary: Leonard has tattoos. He doesn't think it's a particularly big deal, but apparently Jim does.





	Only Skin Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://littlecrazyfangirl-98.tumblr.com/post/183319477120/i-love-your-headcanons-so-because-im-a-tattoo) tumblr post. A huge thank you to all involved for their inspiration.

Leonard is usually very careful. But he's in hand-to-hand one day, too busy grappling with an over-zealous trainee security officer to realise that his shirt rides up at the back.

 

It would take more than that, though, to distract him from the unmistakable crunch of flesh striking bone and a yell of pain. Leonard shoves his sparring partner off him and turns towards the sound.

 

Somehow it's both the first and last person he expects to find injured. "Damnit, Jim, what did you do?"

 

Jim is too busy trying to staunch the flow of blood from a likely broken nose to immediately respond. He waves away the concern of their instructor but lets Leonard brusquely examine him, getting them both covered in blood in the process, and submits to Leonard's suggestion of the Academy Clinic with suspiciously little argument and an overabundance of pained groans.

 

There's only ten minutes of their session left, so the instructor lets them go and Jim makes a miraculous recovery the moment he's out the door.

 

"Bones! What is that under your shirt?"

 

"That's why you got punched in the face? You were too busy ogling my tattoo?"

 

Jim lets out a girlish shrieking sound that is hastily cut off when Leonard grabs him by the arm and robustly encourages him to keep walking where he would have stopped. It doesn't really help. Leonard can feel the anticipatory silence, Jim's restless energy, his need to know as an almost physical presence.

 

Still, it doesn't last long. "Please, Bones. Let me see it? I just want to see it. I'll stop pestering you, just let me see what's under your shirt."

 

"Your pick-up lines need work," Leonard slaps away inquisitive hands, ends up with yet more smears of blood all over his for his trouble. He wipes them on his black shirt, figures it's already past saving. "And I know you. You'll keep pestering."

 

"But I won't need to if you just let me see- wait. You have more than one."

 

It's like all of Jim's Christmases have come at once. He even lights up so vividly that Leonard has to look away. Anyway, Jim hates Christmas. He needs a better metaphor.

 

"Bones, I'm gonna need you to get naked for the good of the 'Fleet."

 

"Really."

 

"Yes! You wouldn't want their best Captain to be distracted, now, would you? It would be a disaster."

 

"Captain Pike does not give a damn what's under my shirt, _Cadet_."

 

"I'll still be distracted when I'm a Captain. And I don't know, I mean, he's not blind-"

 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

 

"You're a good-looking guy, Bones! And you're- weirdly buff, for a doctor."

 

"I am not weirdly anything, except friends with you."

 

"I know you meant that as an insult but all I'm taking from that is you admit we're friends."

 

"You sound a little delusional, Jim, are you sure you're not up for another round of vaccinations?"

 

Jim plants his feet right outside the damn clinic, makes Leonard realise just how little chance he stands against the force of that resolve. Still. He has a reputation to maintain. "Move. You're not seeing a damn thing until you've stopped bleeding."

 

"It's pretty much stopped. I don't even think it's broken."

 

"You're right, I should definitely believe the idiot who got punched in the head over my years of medical expertise."

 

Jim just grins at him. There's blood dripping off his face. His nose is definitely crooked.

 

"Goddamnit, fine." Leonard turns, lifts his shirt up at the back. He expected but is unprepared for the sensation of Jim's hands on his exposed skin, pushing his shirt up further, tracing the lines of ink that have been part of his skin for so long he almost forgets about them. He is in no way prepared for the awestruck stutter in Jim's breath, for the murmured curses that conspire to send shivers down his spine.

 

"I can't believe you complain so much about the nickname," Jim breathes next, and Leonard snorts. Yes, he has bones tattooed on his back, starting at his hips and extending up his spine to fade out before it can realistically be seen while he's wearing a shirt, a hyper-realistic reminder to stand tall and protect what's inside of him.

 

Jim draws the line at pushing his pants further down where they cover the further detail at his pelvis, but he traces the lines of jagged vertebrae with gentle fingers, smoothes his palms out over the curves of the ribs, just teases the edges of where he can see the scapulae at his shoulders. They're in public, but at least they're out of class early enough that not many people are around. Nobody even glances in their direction, but Leonard feels self-conscious all the same.

 

"You done?" he asks, and Jim starts away, pulls Leonard's shirt down and attempts a confident grin that makes him hiss in pain. Leonard drags him into medical before he can put up any further arguments.

 

-

 

Leonard was right. Jim does want to see his other tattoos, and he does not stop pestering.

 

In fact, he goes further than that.

 

They meet in the cafeteria one day and Jim spills brightly-coloured soda all down Leonard's pants. He's unrealistically and aggressively apologetic and practically tries to convince Leonard to take his clothes off where they stand.

 

Less than a week later, Leonard is stuck in a lecture because the tutor's codes no longer work on the door. Also, the heating system appears to be broken, because it is much warmer in there than it should be. Leonard spends the next hour or so glaring at the security cameras because he knows what Jim is doing, damnit, and it's bad enough that it should be irritating him without dragging other people into it too. Anyway, he grew up in Georgia. He's used to being uncomfortably hot and also surrounded by family members he despises, so it's kind of like a vacation.

 

They're freed eventually, and he always carries an extra bottle of water with him after that. He also doesn't talk to Jim for three days, until he's worn down by the big, apologetic eyes and the flowers their tutor mysteriously receives.

 

"It's still not alright, damnit! Don't go dragging other people into this! If you put half as much work into something productive…"

 

Jim is grinning so broadly it's clear that his chastisement is having no effect. Leonard wears long sleeves and pants even in his quarters for the week after that, just to see him quietly fume and pout.

 

Leonard steps out of the shower a while after that to find his clothes and towel have mysteriously disappeared. He actually finds himself grateful that Jim didn't just barge in and demand to see.

 

He's also a little insulted that Jim underestimates him so severely.

 

Uzbek is in their cultural sensitivity class, has about the same build and uses the showers about ten minutes after Leonard. Today is no exception.

 

"Your boyfriend still playing all those pranks on you?" Uzbek asks, handing over the mass of red fabric with a smirk and only the barest glance of interest at the exposed ink on Leonard's chest.

 

"Something like that."

 

-

 

He gets a few comments, all of them surprisingly complimentary, as he crosses campus. Most people either don't notice the difference or don't care, though, and he finds Jim outside their lecture theatre, pretending to be engrossed in his padd. Someone giggles, and Leonard shoots them a warning look, steps up in front of Jim, puts his hands on his hips and clears his throat.

 

Jim glances up and there is a flash of disappointment in his eyes when he sees the red uniform. Then he notices. Leonard can tell he notices, because he drops his padd. Jim stares, mouth open, and Leonard just arches a brow at him, because it feels like he's getting revenge for everything Jim's put him through the last couple of weeks.

 

The best part is, even with the skirt, the uniform still doesn't expose any more of his ink than it would have done anyway. The lotus flowers, inked in greyscale around his ankle are hidden by his boots, and he's still got long sleeves and the spare underwear he keeps in his locker at Medical.

 

Jim is still staring. Leonard doesn't allow himself to feel uncomfortable, has never had a problem with his legs or a fragile grasp on his masculinity. He strides into the lecture theatre when the door is opened and feels Jim's gaze burn on the backs of his thighs, lets his hips sway just a little. The game has gone on long enough and he intends to win.

 

When he chooses a seat, Jim sinks into the one beside him with a baleful glare. He doesn't make a single note, just stares some more, mostly at the hem of Leonard's skirt, the place where his thighs are pressed together. Unfortunately for him, Leonard grew up with enough women to know how to sit properly.

 

By the time they get up to leave, Jim is practically vibrating with tension, fingers twitching with a need to touch. Leonard's not unaffected himself, and he doesn't resist when Jim hauls him into a secluded corner, shoves him up against the wall and kisses him. It's harsh and biting and Leonard pulls Jim in closer with hands on his ass, only too happy to accept this new outlet for their combined frustration.

 

"I don't even care about the tattoos, I just need to see you naked right now," Jim pants, with a nip at Leonard's ear, a graze of his teeth along Leonard's jaw, his hand creeping up the outside of Leonard's thigh. It's tempting, very tempting.

 

"Not that sort of girl, damnit. You'll need to at least buy me dinner."

 

Jim huffs out a laugh. His eyes are dark, his cheeks flushed, his lips swollen and wet. "I've got half a bottle of bourbon and a bag of peanuts in my room."

 

"Deal."

 

-

 

Later, when they're sated and relaxed and sleepy -or so Leonard thinks- Jim turns the lights up to full and yanks the covers off to look his fill.

 

"What is wrong with you?" Leonard complains, but the gentle touch of fingers to his inked ankle is surprisingly pleasant. The flowers there tell a story for him. Lotus flowers are submerged in mud overnight, have their roots there, but they bloom anew every morning without a single smudge to mar their beauty. Lotus seeds can survive hundreds of years without water, still germinating centuries later. They are hardy, and miraculous. They're one of the first thing he sees most mornings when he gets out of bed.

 

He hugs his pillow and buries his face in it, shivers slightly when Jim kisses each of the flowers in turn, then trails his lips up the back of Leonard's thigh to bite lightly at his ass, finally setting his hands to the inked pelvic bones just above it. He traces them reverently, relaxing Leonard by degrees before urging him to turn over.

 

Leonard does it with a grumble, because he knows what's coming, knows it's inevitable.

 

Jim bursts out laughing, of course, when he sees it, the adorable kitten inked close to his navel.

 

"Lost a bet in medical school."

 

"Did you- choose the design?" Jim is still laughing. Leonard hits him with the pillow. Jim snatches it off him and throws it across the room, then bends to kiss the kitten. Leonard's hips twitch hopefully, Jim's lovely mouth so close to areas beginning to once more demand attention with Jim also gloriously naked and within reach. He just gets a coy look for his troubles and rolls his eyes.

 

Jim finds the caduceus on his inner arm next, just above the elbow. It's meant to stay Leonard's hand when he might otherwise act rashly, a reminder to do no harm. Subtly, in the detail of the staff, is the stardate of his father's death. If Jim notices, he doesn't ask.

 

There are twin guardians adorning Leonard's chest, Chinese lion statues representing yin and yang. Balance. They watch over Leonard's heart, because he's fallen too hard and too fast, or given too much, too many times. Jim pets them like they're adorable puppies, but he does allow himself to be dragged down into a kiss by way of Leonard's fists clenching in his hair once he's done.

 

"Think I should get one?" he asks, maybe an hour later.

 

"Don't do it on my account. I know some good artists if you wanted to talk to them about any designs you had in mind."

 

-

 

Jim's taste in tattoos tends towards commemorating events far more than Leonard's does. By the time they finally attend the parlour together, Jim already has a colourful nebula inked across his ribs on one side, a cluster of four wheatsheafs across the opposite pectoral. There's a guardian angel keeping watch over his back, too.

 

Their matching tattoos are anatomically correct hearts around which a selection of planets orbit, Leonard's in greyscale and adorning his forearm. Apparently he has a propensity to wear his heart on his sleeve.

 

Jim's is a vivid red, inked in the hollow of his hip, a testament to the number of times he has been accused of being governed by what's in his pants.


End file.
